


Sometimes Cloudy at Noon

by interrobangman



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Badboy!McCree, Butting heads to holding hands, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Genji is a matchmaking little shit, Hanzo has a glasses complex and low self-esteem, Hanzo is also still kind of an asshole, Jesse aggressively wants friendship, M/M, Megane!McHanzo AU, Scandalous handholding, Uni Student!Hanzo, eventual boyfriends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2021-01-29 21:17:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21416806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/interrobangman/pseuds/interrobangman
Summary: Struggling to juggle university, a job, his father's expectations and his own feelings of inadequacy, Hanzo runs into the new bad-boy on the block Jesse McCree, who mistakes uncomfortable contact lenses for crying. Things ensue as the two butt heads over a simple misunderstanding, dancing around their issues and coming to terms with who they want to be.
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada
Comments: 5
Kudos: 72





	Sometimes Cloudy at Noon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kannibal (keio)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/keio/gifts).

> Special thanks to the AMAZING [Keio](https://twitter.com/kannibal) for providing the [beautiful piece of art that started it all](https://twitter.com/kannibal/status/1161503289743204356) and for letting me run amok within her fantastic "Sometimes Cloudy at Noon" AU in her replies over there. This wouldn't exist without you and I hope you like it! <3
> 
> SHE MADE [ANOTHER PIC FOR POCKY DAY](https://twitter.com/kannibal/status/1194301135164567552)!!! <3<3<3

Damn, his eyes hurt. He knew he shouldn't have slept with the contacts in, again. His optometrist had been _ very _ clear what could happen if he did. But between long hours spent in tedious classes, after school tutoring, archery lessons five times a week and his father Sojiro's very own "special" training, Hanzo barely had any time left to spare a thought to eat and sleep.

He'd already missed his train due to his scattered thoughts, how was supposed to remember that he had to take the little glass discs out of his eyes? Luckily, his student had called in sick, though Hanzo got the feeling he had taken a page out of his brother's book and faked it. In the long run, the boy, much like Genji, wouldn't benefit from so many missed classes, but right then he couldn't bring himself to care.

Being reminded of Genji soured his mood further. Ever since they were children, he'd been flippant about most things that Hanzo had to take seriously, and that attitude had carried through to adulthood. He gave almost no effort to anything he did, unless it involved having debauched fun, getting drunk in the middle of the day or getting laid. Even then, he didn't have to overexert himself; people flocked to Genji like flies to manure and have him virtually everything he could have wanted. Eventually, his luck would run out, and his charm could only get him so far and then what? What he would do when that day came? Hanzo didn't know what he would do either.

Their father didn't seem to care about his youngest son's errant behaviour either. Hanzo was different story. As the eldest, and the one who would inherit their clan's legacy, both publicly and behind closed doors, he was infinitely more scrutinised. While Genji was out drinking and causing a scene, Hanzo was studying and trying to appease their father.

None of that mattered this late into the evening, even if he had to convince himself it was true. All he wanted was to get home and put an ice pack over his aching eyes. His eyesight was truly horrendous and he'd been prescribed glasses since he was a toddler, but Hanzo couldn't stand wearing them in public. He thought back to the thick, horn-rimmed glasses sitting at home and sighed. He hated the looks they got him but he was sorely tempted to forego appearances tomorrow and wear them out instead. 

If only he could stand the look of disappointment, of shame, the clan would throw his way and the hushed whispers of his wrongness behind his back.

He supposed that was why Sojiro spent a small fortune getting Hanzo contact lenses. Surgery was out of the question, at least currently. He was too young, the procedure too risky, so options were limited. So the less visible but far more irritating contacts it was. But if it would keep father happy, Hanzo could bear it. He rubbed his eyes absently and hissed in pain, fighting back tears. That, however, he could do without.

"Hey," a voice said from beside him. Hanzo hadn't heard the man come up to him and startled.

Hanzo stared up at the newcomer, a looming foreigner with a tan, beaten up face and a stern expression, and felt the words die in his throat. Truly, he'd been distracted because there was no way a man that large could have snuck up on him otherwise.

He could have been Hanzo's age, or older, but he was wearing a school uniform, though it was heavily altered. There were chains and straps and studs on his pants, collar and cuffs and he'd thrown a black leather jacket over the whole thing. His shirt was unbuttoned and untucked beneath a grey vest and he wrote a raggedy neckerchief under his chin.

Delinquent was the first word that came to mind. Great. What had he done to attract such unwanted attention?

"You alright?" he continued, eyes dark. His Japanese was accented but otherwise flawless, reminding Hanzo of his grandmother, of all things.

He was staring, he knew he was and in an effort to not appear rude, broke eye contact and bowed his head slightly. "I am fine," he murmured as he straightened, keeping his gaze averted as he turned away.

The smell of smoke tickled his nose, irritating his eyes further. "You don't look _ fine _ to me," the man said, pulling a drag from a skinny cigarette. "You look like you've been crying."

The audacity! Had he no regard for public spaces? For privacy? Not to mention making such a humiliating statement like that to a complete stranger. Foreigners were such a pain, especially when they had no regard for decorum and decency. Luckily, they were alone, so Hanzo was saved the public embarrassment. 

"Drop it," he said, switching to English, unable to keep his voice from wavering. His father always managed to sound like steel when he spoke but Hanzo had yet to master that ability. "I said I'm fine, now leave me the hell alone."

The change in the foreigner's expression was immediate, eyebrows shooting up into his hairline in surprise. His face darkened suddenly and he dropped his cigarette, crushing it beneath his boot.

"Forget I said anything," he muttered, having the gall to look offended. Hanzo watched him go, only daring to breathe again when he was out of sight. His breath was shaky and he struggled to unclench his fist from his book bag. The train arrived and he dashed inside, dropping into a seat as his heart tried to break through his ribs. 

When his eyes began to sting again, it wasn't because of the contacts.

\---

Hanzo watched his brother parade across the courtyard from the second floor, collecting a gaggle of followers as he went. He didn't need a perfectly functioning pair of eyes to know that the shock of bright green hair was Genji. No one else dared to break the dress code so ostentatiously. And even if that hadn't been enough of a giveaway, they were loud enough that he could hear them through the glass, calling after him.

He tried not to let his annoyance get the better of him. At least Genji had shown up today, albeit three hours late. Hanzo had tried to rouse his brother in the morning but the brat had slammed the door in his face. It was an improvement, of a sort, at least.

If Hanzo had even dared to be three minutes late, he'd never hear the end of it. How Genji managed to keep from failing despite attending virtually none of his classes was a mystery to Hanzo. No doubt he used that same charm on his professors that got him out of trouble with their father or into bed with supermodels.

No, Hanzo wasn't bitter.

He packed up his things, deciding it would be better to head off to his part time job early and get some of his homework done in the relative peace and quiet of the storeroom when the noise outside suddenly died down. Curious, Hanzo paused at the window again.

He watched as his brother approached a figure, saluting casually, leaving his friends behind. The group huddled together, turning inward as if they were gossiping, or afraid. Genji, always overly familiar, threw an arm over the stranger's wide shoulders and flashed him a grin, already yammering away.

When the stranger turned, giving Hanzo His profile, he felt a flash of anxiety run down his spine.

The foreigner from before. Had he followed them to their school? How had he gotten in? What was he doing with Genji?

He let himself spiral for a moment before reeling himself in. Genji liked surrounding himself with new, shiny things, so of course he'd be all over him. He hadn't seen him in any of his classes, so he might not even be a student. Certainly, he wasn't there for Hanzo. There was no problem here.

Still, just to be sure, he'd leave through the south gate.

\---

If Genji continued to be friendly with the stranger, he knew nothing of it. Not that the brothers were particularly close, but he'd kept an ear out and heard nothing. Perhaps he'd grown bored of the man already, though that didn't seem likely. From just their little interaction, Hanzo could tell the two of them would make fast friends.

Still, he didn't see him on campus again, and he'd almost forgotten about the man until one day several weeks later, Hanzo was running late after his archery lessons. The other members had bailed on him early, leaving Hanzo to clean up and pack away, which he didn't mind so much. He was fastidious by nature so the chance to organise things the way he liked was a welcome distraction.

What wasn't welcome was how his eyes began to weep within minutes of sweeping up. He tried the solution his optometrist had given him after complaining of the irritation, but it didn't seem to help. Stupid dust. He would have just plucked them out but then he wouldn't be able to tell if he was cleaning properly, so instead he suffered in silence.

Eventually though, enough was enough, and he called it quits when he noticed he'd been mopping at the same square of floor for several minutes. He washed his hands, grabbed his bag and bow and locked the dojo up and headed out. With his hands and back adding to his growing aches, Hanzo was doubly tired as he made his way to the train station. He couldn’t wait to slip into a hot bath, though he’d yet to finish a number of assignments and there was a lesson plan to revise for his failing student. He groaned irritably. Maybe he should just forget the bath and get a head start on his homework instead.

"Hanzo?" He tried not to cringe at his name, anxiety spiking his heart rate, hoping he'd heard wrong. His name wasn't exactly uncommon, maybe they were talking to someone else.

"Hey, Hanzo," he was called again and he cursed. Definitely him they were after. He'd specifically chosen his route because it had far less foot traffic, and given his messy, disheveled state, he'd rather not ruin the chance of bumping into someone he knew. Word always got back to his father, one way or another, and Sojiro Shimada had little tolerance or patience.

Instead of facing the caller, he picked up his pace, noting the following footsteps increased in speed as well. He hadn't wanted a confrontation to occur but it seemed inevitable. Stopping under the yellow glow of a street lamp, Hanzo turned to face his pursuer, tense but ready.

"I knew it was you," the man said, amused as he came into view from the darkness. He was both relieved and irritated when he recognised him as Genji's foreigner friend. He looked different out of his uniform, less like a rebellious child in plain dark pants and a light grey sweatshirt. His face was still bandaged, even more so with a large gauze covering his left eye.

Hanzo decided on being only the slightest bit rude, frowning as he crossed his arms. "I didn't realise I was being called, I apologise."

The foreigner cocked his hip and smirked, shifting the bandages over his eye. "I'm sure, what with the street being so busy, right?" He'd switched to English, and Hanzo found it just as strangely accented as his Japanese.

"Why are you following me?" he said instead, taking a step back. The man stepped closer, keeping the distance between then the same.

"I hate to break it to you, Hanzo, but the streets are public property and I can go wherever I please." Hanzo gave him a flat look and he sighed, rolling his shoulders. "I had business in the area and when I saw a friendly face, I thought I'd say hi."

He snorted, turning away and continuing down the road. What business he had, Hanzo didn't want to know. "We're not friends. I don't even know your name."

"Jesse McCree, at your service," he said, inclining his head.

The words stuck out as he said them and Hanzo paused, perplexed. They'd had a single conversation several days ago, if one could even call it that. He'd never introduced himself, the man hadn't either and they'd yet to run into each other since then.

"How do you know my name?" he breathed, suspicious. He felt his phone in his pocket and wondered if he could dial someone quick enough if things went bad. Not a single number came to mind, and he discarded the idea. Better to handle this his way and not alert his father, if he could avoid it.

The man blinked in surprise, scratching at his stubbled face. "Genji told me."

Genji. Of course his wayward brother would not only make friends with a ruffian, but overshare literally everything with him. His tendency towards being personable often slipped into offensively familiar, much to Hanzo and his father's chagrin. He wondered if Genji did it to spite them or if he really was that much of an innocent moron.

"And what else has my brother told you?"

Jesse shrugged, jamming his hands into his pockets. "That you're either a stick in the mud or have one stuck up your ass, and not to bother you."

He'd heard worse before, though it still stung to know his brother said the same as well. At the very least, he hoped that was all Genji had said, about him or the family at large. The younger Shimada had a habit of doing whatever he could to try to impress others. If certain information had been shared with the gruff foreigner, a literal stranger, things could badly for all involved. 

"You walking this way?" McCree asked, indicating down the street and the direction Hanzo had been heading. He briefly considered lying and turning around, but he'd already been caught in a lie once by the other man and didn't fancy his chances at getting away with one so obvious.

He nodded and turned to walk away, only to have Jesse come up beside him, falling into step. "What are you doing out so late at night all by your lonesome?"

Hanzo felt his blood pressure spike and tried to keep his showing to a minimum. Genji might have told his new friend to leave his brother alone, but the advice had apparently fallen on deaf ears.

"I could ask you the same thing," he retorted flatly, straining himself to remain polite.

"I asked you first. You really should answer mine before you start asking yours," Jesse shot back. He had the same infuriating habit of dodging questions as Genji, though with far more enthusiasm and prodding. He reminded Hanzo of a dog then, a big, lumbering thing that didn't take direction well.

And much like a misbehaving puppy, Hanzo found the best way to deal with one was too simply not respond at all. So he clamped his mouth shut and kept his eyes forward. After a moment, Jesse sighed, and continued to follow him, his longer legs having no problem keeping up with Hanzo's mild jog.

"Alright, alright, I get it. I'll go first then, if it'll please you. I had some… business to take care of and my appointment ran a little late." 

Point one to Hanzo. Jesse caved far faster than Genji ever did, even under their father's narrowed gaze. His poorly formed excuse, for that was what it was, was interesting. Not because of what he said, but what was implied. One brief glance at his face, and the bruising peppering his skin, was all the confirmation he needed.

Jesse McCree was much worse than a delinquent.

He wondered what sort off illicit doings the foreigner was involved in. Certainly his father had heard of something by now if he were. Not that Sojiro would ever tell him, nor would Hanzo ever dare to ask. Instead, he filed that detail away and kept his face pointedly neutral.

"Your turn," McCree continued as the station came into view. Thankfully, that too was deserted and Hanzo was saved further embarrassment of being seen in such a state. Though he was sure his present company, looking like a roughed up athlete, would take much of that attention away. 

Hanzo passed through the barrier with a quick swipe of his pass and continued on to his platform, never once breaking stride. Jesse grumbled something under his breath not far behind him, jumping over the gate without paying. Hanzo decided to hold his tongue instead of chastising him. Even a child knew such behaviour was exceedingly bad, but he doubted Jesse cared.

They came to a stop at the same platform Jesse had snuck up on him and Hanzo counted down the minutes until the next train arrived. With the man next to him practically vibrating at his indifference, the next six minutes were going to be the longest of his life.

“Come on,” Jesse continued to cajole. His begging almost sounded genuine, until he made the mistake of locking eyes with him and saw the big man grinning wryly. “You gotta give me something or else this ain’t much of a conversation. You still crying over something?”

Hanzo blew out an anger-laden breath and pulled out his phone flipping over to The Japan Times. He had only just begun skimming the first article when he felt a tug at his bag, pulling his shoulder back. He whirled around, arm pulled back as he made a fist as McCree stepped back, hands in the air. His surprise was almost comical, and in any other circumstance would have been, but he’d had just about enough.

“Whoa, ease up,” Jesse said calmly, which only served to infuriate him further. “I was just taking a look at your shoulder bag.”

“It’s a case, not a bag,” he spat out, and Jesse leaned back, clucking his tongue.

“What’s in it?”

“None of your business,” he growled, giving him his back. The other man was quiet for a moment, before he murmured to himself. His patience thoroughly at it’s end, Hanzo set his jaw with a click and eyed him. “What?”

“What’s ‘kyudo’?”

Hanzo stared at him blankly and he lifted his chin at the bag on his shoulder. “It’s written on your _ bag _,” he emphasised, a dimple appearing in his scruffy cheek when he caught Hanzo glower.

“It’s for archery,” he growled, as the low rumble of the train entered the station. Hanzo stepped back as the train was announced, brakes hissing as it came to a gentle stop. The doors slid open and he jumped inside the mostly empty car.

“Like bow-and-arrows archery?” McCree asked, coming up short when Hanzo stopped at the doorway, facing him with narrowed eyes. He tried to step around him, but Hanzo raised his hand to his chest, saying nothing. His lopsided grin faltered slightly and he tried to barrel forward, only to have Hanzo keep him in place with a surprisingly firm palm.

“You gonna let me on or what?” he asked coyly, but Hanzo only pursed his lips, pushing him back onto the platform. His brows furrowed and he stared at him, confused.

“I’ll say this only once more,” Hanzo said tightly as the announcement came to step away from the doors. “Leave me alone.”

Rooted to the spot, eyes locked, they watched one another as the doors closed and the train began to pull away. Once again, Hanzo was confused by the other man’s despondent expression and found himself glaring at the hand that had forced him off the train. All things considered, he felt guilt colour his anger and hated himself for it. Why should he feel guilty for pushing someone away who couldn’t take a hint?

Scowling, he flicked open his messages and sent his brother a short text.

_ Don’t ever mention me to one of your friends again. _

Genji responded in seconds. _ What did I do? _

Then, _ What did _ you _ do? _

Growling, he shoved his phone back in his pocket and stared at his hand, feeling the skin beneath his palm as it grew cold. He didn’t have an answer.


End file.
